The One With The Stories
by JMHaughey
Summary: Happy Birthday, some1tookmyname! We wrote you some stories.
1. 40 Seconds - RositaLG

**A/N: I'm sure I'm not the first to say it but happy birthday Some1tookmyname! JMHaughey secretly sent out the call this summer for everyone in the Hamlet to write you some fic based on the number 40 in honor of your existence and no one is happier to participate in this celebration than me! I chose 40 seconds and wrote pieces of the season 8 Pelant story line in 40 second increments. **

**I hope that you have the best birthday ever. You've earned it, my friend!**

By RositaLG

* * *

A lot could happen in forty seconds. No one knew this more than Dr. Temperance Brennan.

A car could turn a corner and disappear for the next fifteen years.

A nickname could be bestowed.

A kiss could curl toes.

An insult could be hurled and a slap could be delivered, setting two people down a path that would take nearly a decade to alter.

A puff of coal dust could save an entire team.

A trigger could be pulled, destroying two hearts with one bullet.

A tumor could be diagnosed.

A woman could say no.

A man could decide to move on.

A sniper could take a life.

An elevator could freeze.

A child could be conceived.

A car could turn a corner and disappear…

Forty seconds could, and often did, change everything.

* * *

Brennan looked back, just once, in the rearview mirror. She tried not to but her curiosity could not be contained and she let her gaze flick up momentarily. Even from a distance, she knew what she had done. She saw it in the defeated slump of his shoulders and her brain automatically imagined the angry, tight line of his ticking jaw that appeared when he was upset.

She had just broken something that she wasn't entirely certain she could ever fix.

Then, she found the inner strength to look into the rearview mirror one more time. This time, she took in her peacefully content daughter, who had her eyes and Booth's chin and Brennan felt something steel within her.

She would do this for them. For all of them.

She would make the hard choices.

She would not turn back.

OOOOO

Booth stood on the porch, his hand wavering in front of the door knob, but unable to connect. He hadn't been home yet, between reporting Brennan's flight to the FBI and the inevitable questioning that followed, but the sun was starting to set behind the neighbor's roof across the street and it was time to go in. He knew that. He _knew_ that.

Still…

He stole a glance at the swing where just a few weeks before they had rocked Christine to sleep in the same warm, summer evening air and his heart clenched in his chest. He bit the inside of his cheek and just moved forward, letting the desire to escape the fresh memory propel him inside.

He turned on the hall light and set his jacket down at the bottom of the steps. He moved instinctively, checking the answering machine and the fridge on the off-chance she might have left him a note while he was gone, some kind of sign that she was coming back.

Nothing.

Everything was in its place. Everything was exactly where she had left it.

And it was that very normalcy that finally broke him.

* * *

It was a Wednesday afternoon when Angela showed up on Booth's doorstep, asking him to lunch. She had taken him to the Mall and sat down in an outdoor café where they could be seen.

"You know, hypothetically, if Brennan were able to send you a message, she would want you to know that she loves you and that she misses you." Angela had said quietly, while looking off into the horizon. Booth stared at her while she took another bite of salad and he felt his own sandwich turn to ash in his mouth. His hands began to shake as Angela smiled and waved at someone she knew passing by.

"How do you know that?" He finally stuttered.

"Just a hunch." She said covertly.

"Angela…."

"You know, if she were able to, she would tell you to solve the case." She said and Booth inhaled sharply, her words physically hurting him with every syllable she uttered. "Brennan wouldn't let a little thing like distance stop her from working so you certainly shouldn't let her absence stop you."

"Hypothetically speaking?" He stated and Angela nodded. "Hypothetically speaking, I love them more than anything."

"Oh, they know that, Booth." She smiled as she touched his hand. "They know."

* * *

Brennan felt her heart stop as Angela passed along Booth's message. Brennan read and re-read it before placing it over the candle and lighting the message on fire, sending it into the air, just as she had during the blizzard the year before.

"Daddy loves you, Christine." Brennan said with tears in her eyes. "He loves you so much." Christine just laid on the floor and babbled. However, when the message was gone, Brennan picked up her daughter and held her tightly against her shoulder as she tried to convince herself that he would still love _her_ after all of this.

* * *

Brennan knew that coming home wouldn't be easy. She knew better than anyone how it felt to be abandoned and she could only imagine that Booth felt it tenfold in losing his child and his partner in the same way.

So, on her first night home, Brennan entered the laundry room prepared for a fight. She wanted to clear the air and make things right, even if that was usually his burden. Brennan wanted things back to normal.

"Hey, look at that. Bones is back!" Booth replied at seeing her freshly dyed hair and she couldn't help but hear a double meaning in his voice.

"You still angry with me?" She asked hesitantly.

"No." He replied too quickly.

"I did what I thought was right for Christine." She explained.

"I know. You did the right thing." He spoke the words without a hint of emotion. He only detached when he felt so strongly about something, he shut down for fear of his own emotions overtaking him. She knew the technique well.

"If, if I told you we were leaving, you would have been an accomplice. We needed you here to catch Pelant." She continued.

"Bones, you don't have to explain. You did the right thing. I understand." Despite Booth's assurances, she still didn't believe him. He was saying what he thought he should say.

"I'm sorry." She said, knowing how weak it sounded.

"Why are you sorry for doing the right thing?" He asked.

"I'm sorry for how you must have felt when I did the right thing." She answered. She watched as his jaw got tight in that way it always did when he was upset and he looked away. He kicked the laundry basket at his feet and made a decision.

"Yeah, you know what?" He asked as he came towards her with a forced smile and kissed her. "I think I liked you…" he paused to kiss her again, "better as a blonde." Brennan inwardly rolled her eyes. He always did like them better blonde. Still, she played along.

"Oh no." She giggled, playing her part.

After all, they had always been good at pretending.

* * *

Booth hadn't expected such a simple sight to stop him dead in his tracks.

As he glanced into the Bone room and saw Brennan hunched over her lab table, something within him froze. Suddenly, all of the fighting and tension melted away and he saw the woman that he fell in love with. Her intense look, standing over a body, as she went to work was always a magical thing to watch but he felt like he was staring into a time capsule from years ago.

It was like he was seeing her again for the first time.

She worked best solo, despite her team's brilliance. It was her natural setting and Booth was hit with the realization that his real fear wasn't that she'd leave him again, but that she would remember that she didn't need him to survive. She was totally capable of living her life alone, raising their daughter, making a living. It was unsettling how easily she could move on without him. He had spent years trying to get her to depend on other people, to remind her that she was part of something larger, and he was terrified that just three short months of solitude would erase years of his hard work.

Erase him.

And he had no idea how to fix it.

* * *

Brennan slipped in the front door and saw him sitting next to a bottle of scotch. For the first time since she'd gotten back, she finally saw the results of the damage she had inflicted reflected in Booth's body language. He looked…tired.

"Hi." He said meekly.

"Hi." She returned.

"Kinda late." The statement doubled as an accusation and she heard it.

"Well, I went to see Sweets." She explained.

"Why?"

"Cuz." She sighed. "Something is wrong with me." She said bluntly. She watched as Booth's face fell.

"No, Bones. Nothing is wrong with you."

"I thought today when we apologized to each other that everything was fine."

"Because we were being polite." He said with a nod.

"Yes." She replied. Booth rubbed his eyes in exhaustion. "We were polite but you still knew that everything wasn't fine."

"I was uh…hoping that it would be, you know, in the future."

"Only if we admit that it isn't fine right now." She pointed out. "Sweets says that I am subconsciously rebelling against the fact that my happiness is now contingent on your happiness and Christine's."

"Sweets, he's good with the psychology, okay? But we're more than psychology. We're going to be okay." He promised as he looked her directly in the eye. She sighed. He was the one who had taught her the importance of eye contact and she took the gesture sincerely.

If he honestly believed it, which he did, then she would trust him.

They would be okay.

* * *

Booth set down the bag of jerky as he tried to comprehend the jibberish that was coming out of his partner's mouth.

"Just…Will you just slow down?" He requested as he focused on her.

"The point is…" she sighed, "I want to marry you." She said simply and Booth stopped breathing. "Will you marry me, Booth?"

"Are you serious?" He asked, unable to believe what she was doing.

"Yes. I've been afraid, I've been stubborn, and I've been in love. And marriage would make you so happy."

"Are you sure? You're not just saying this because of Pelant and everything that's going on here?"

"Positive. All this just made me see things more clearly. I love you. I want you to be my husband. I wanna, I wanna spend the rest of my life with you." Booth fought the small smile that quirked at his lips at his brainy scientist sounding so damn romantic. "Say something." She begged.

"Yes." He said simply, knowing how nervous she must be. "Of course. Yes." He smiled. Brennan smiled and kissed him happily.

And just like that, everything was not only fixed, it was better.

They had each other, and nothing could ever destroy that.

* * *

"Booth." He answered the phone with a smile.

"You won't marry her, Agent Booth." Booth felt his heart stop.

"It's Mom." He lied to his partner as he stood up and walked further away

"You don't get to decide that." Booth argued, once he was out of ear shot.

"But I do. I always make the decisions. And Dr. Brennan can't know the reason why you're turning her down. If you tell her, I'll know." Pelant promised.

"We're done here." Booth said, getting ready to hang up the phone.

"If you ignore me," Pelant said quickly, "you'll be responsible for the deaths of five innocent people: the teenager with the green shirt and head phones, couple on the bench, the old man playing chess by himself." Booth spotted each of the innocent bystanders as Pelant listed them off. Booth felt his stomach drop, already knowing Pelant would do it, right here, in front of his family.

"I'm gonna find you and I'm gonna kill you." Booth promised. Pelant continued to flaunt his genius over the phone but Booth was already moving on to his revenge. "I will kill you." Booth repeated again as he hung up the phone. As he turned around, he saw Brennan smile and wave at him. He smiled meekly back despite the fact that he felt like he was going to throw up.

Forty seconds could, and often did, change everything.


	2. The Crack in the Egg - JMHaughey

_**Happiest Birthday wishes, Tracy! Thank you for being an amazing friend. Here's to forty! **_

_**I know you are the Queen of Missing Moments. I thought I'd try, anyway.**_

_**This takes place during A Night at the Bones Museum.**_

* * *

"_**We're all a little weird. And life is a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness—and call it love—true love." **__**  
**__**Robert Fulghum, True Love **_

* * *

Hacker walks out of Booth's office, "Next time you are at the Founding Father's, you should try the meatloaf with the egg. It tastes nothing like a human eye."

Booth sits at his desk – he remembers telling Brennan that story. He doesn't talk about his mother often. He is still angry at her for leaving. He understands why she did, now. It's not something he will ever get over; much like his gambling addiction, his penchant for recovery far outweighs the need for a downward spiral. Brennan is the reason he stopped gambling, the reason he forgave his mother, even is father. She's his reason.

Booth swivels from the chair, grabs his suit jacket and leaves the building. He shakes his head – Brennan promised him, she would not speak of him yet he chuckles as a smile reaches his face. She always surprises him.

* * *

Booth swerves last second and stops at a grocery store.

He saunters to the back of the store. He opens the refrigerator door and grabs a dozen eggs. He only needs one, he thinks, so he lifts up the cardboard selecting the egg of his choice. He's not sure if he should bring the remaining eleven eggs to cashier to explain his actions or if he should just place it back in the refrigerator among the rest of the cartons.

He decides bringing to carton up to the cashier explaining his situation. "I just need one egg."

The cashier looks at him, "Excuse me, sir. You have to buy the whole dozen."

"But I only need one."

"And someone else only needs eleven?" She retorts back, "Eggs aren't sold individually, sir."

He opens his wallet, taking out three dollar bills. He holds them in his hand for a second then begrudgingly gives them to the cashier, "Well, they should be. You could charge forty cents an egg, I bet."

The cashier taking his comments all in stride, she hands Booth the plastic take away bag, "Have a great day, sir."

"Yeah, yeah. Thanks." He hunches his shoulders, still feeling defeated. He climbs back in his car then secures the eggs in his partner's seat. The seat where Brennan told him she wouldn't speak of him while she was out with his boss' boss. He smacks the steering wheel. She promised. He didn't need Hacker knowing his business. He was complicating everything.

* * *

He pulls into parking garage at the Jeffersonian, conceals an egg in his hand and makes his way to Brennan's office. Of course, it's the middle of an investigation so Booth can't exactly ignore the squints who come up wanting to speak with him. He holds a finger up and points in the direction of his partner's office indicating to the squint he doesn't have the time right now for a discussion.

Booth scurries to Brennan's office. He places the egg on her desk. She looks up from her computer with a puzzling look on her face. "Ooh, what's this?"

"What's it look like?"

"An egg."

He asks, "And when was the last time you recently talked about an egg?"

All it once, it makes sense to Brennan. "Oh."

"Oh?" He shoots her a look as if that isn't a reasonable explain for her action.

"Well. . .ah. . ." She tries to explain. "He asked me what was good to eat. And I mentioned that you like the meatloaf."

"Stop." Booth raises his hand. "Right there. You said you weren't going to talk about me and you talked about me."

Brennan is tongue-tied "I. . ." She sputters, "didn't mean to talk about you. I told him I didn't want to but, you know, I like that story. And I guess," She motions with her hands. "it popped out."

"Popped out? I don't need Hacker knowing about my mother's meatloaf."

Brennan, genuinely, questions him. "Why are you so upset?"

He leans on her desk, almost as if he is going to whisper across her desk. "Because what goes on between us is ours."

"Come on, Booth." She retorts, "you must have told a lot of people that story, right?"

He doesn't have an opportunity to answer. Hodgins busts in the office, Booth instinctively grabs the egg so Hodgins doesn't see it. Not thinking, Booth puts the egg in his pocket. He feels it crack when it hits the lighter and poker chip. Booth doesn't react even though he wants to fiercely. He just looks to Brennan, who is already up grabbing her bag and coat, readying herself to head out and question someone.

* * *

Brennan glances at him before she sits in his car, 'Why do you have a dozen eggs in your car?"

"I don't. There are eleven, now."

"You had to buy eggs to make a point."

He looks at her, rolling his eyes like please, drop it. Forget it. "Yeah, well, I didn't plan on buying the damn eggs this morning."

"You do realize these eggs are no use to you anymore." She holds up the carton as if it will make a difference. "Leaving them in the car wasn't a smart idea. You should have refrigerated them."

He interrupts Brennan before she can say another thing, "Look, Bones. . . it was a spontaneous thing. I just wanted one egg, to prove a point."

"You wanted to highlight the fact that I spoke about you with Andrew when previously I indicated I wouldn't."

Booth shakes his head. "Yes."

"I can see why you are upset, Booth. I'm sorry. I didn't think it would be so difficult not to talk about you. You must find it difficult to not include me in discussions." Brennan looks at him and smiles.

He smiles back at her, "Oh yeah, Bones. The hardest time."


	3. A Moment in Time - NelliesBones

_**Happy Birthday, Tracy! May your "40" be full of love and laughter! You're the master of moments, so here's one for you.**_

* * *

A Moment in Time

by nelliesbones

It was night in Washington DC, a warm night in spring. Someplace else it might be lunch-time or morning or autumn even, because the world turns, and just like there is never one single truth, there isn't one time, one day, one season.

Everything happens at once.

Children are born, men are dying and in between... in between there's a wide span of possibilities for everyone of us. A time to laugh, to cry, to grab life.

Time passes in moments.

Some moments vanish as silently as they've come, as ephemeral as a mayfly's flap.

Here. Flap. Forgotten.

Others leave something behind, shadows and sparks which linger in our soul. And a few ones, the rare ones, posses the power to change our perspective on life.

Just a moment. Forty minutes in time. And nothing could ever be the same again.

Forty minutes ago, she had been wearing his clothes. A gray sweater he had outgrown, courtesy of a laundry accident, and drawstring pants. She had been pale, so pale, oozing grief and despair. Something she couldn't understand had happened to her, had happened to one of their own, and his partner had never been good at not understanding things.

Forty minutes ago, they had been friends. It used to be so strong, their friendship, used to be more than everything. But that had been before she had broken his heart; before he had broken hers in return.

_The heart is a muscle. It cannot break, it can only get crushed..._

_Isn't it heart-crushing?_

Forty minutes ago, he had been asleep, safely caught in a dream world where nobody had died.

"I should go back."

Even though her voice was calm, he knew that she was anything but. He could feel it in the rigid line of her back. Her naked back.

"Why?"he asked, his palm cupping her head, her hair rasping like silk against his rough fingers.

5.27 am. The room was dark except for the numbers on his nightstand, but he could see the milky-white curve of her shoulder nonetheless. She was beautiful, so beautiful in his arms. A lump formed in his throat, and Booth blinked hard.

"Because I don't know what that means." It was a whisper, just a whisper, but honesty is seldom very loud.

Solace. Reassurance. The world. It meant the world to him... It could have been her, the person lying bleeding and dead on the floor. It could have been him as well.

"It means whatever you want. Look, Bones, it doesn't have to mean anything at all."

She lifted her head, searching his gaze in the semi-darkness.

"Liar."

His heart stopped, but only for a second, and his fingers tightened around her hair as her clear voice continued.

"There are people you can't just have sex with. Isn't that what you taught me?"

She shifted in his arms, and her cheek came to rest on his chest anew. Soft, her skin was so soft. His arms closed around her, holding her tight to his heart.

"You're right, I'm sorry. I," he swallowed hard. "I hadn't planned on this..."

"I know. You couldn't have foreseen me coming to your room."

His lips curved up on a will of their own because this was so her.

Forty minutes ago, he hadn't known the taste of her skin. Had neither known the little moans she could make nor the perfect fit of her body so utterly close to his. He hadn't known how warm she was and how absolutely right it felt to have her legs wrapped around his back.

How could he ever go back to not knowing?

Not knowing the weight of her breast in his hand, the softness of her stomach under his lips and the blue of her eyes when she came apart underneath him.

"Bones... I know that the timing sucks, but..."

She chuckled in his arms, but it was a tired sound bare of humor.

"We have a history of bad timing, Booth."

His lips fell to her forehead.

"I don't want to lose any more time. Let's catch Broadsky, let's bury the English squintern, let's be sad. But let's do it together. I... I just want to be together with you."

"In a romantic sense?"

"In every sense," he whispered, laying his heart on the table once more. "If you want."

"Yes. Yes."

Her third "yes" was swallowed by his lips, caught in a kiss that went a long way down to soothe the old pain. Pain inflicted by her, inflicted by him, inflicted by things that had just happened.

His thumbs caressed her cheeks, as he kissed her, brushing away a lonely tear, and she crawled on top of his body, surrendering herself to his love.

Outside, dawn was breaking, but for just a few more moments, they were putting the intruding day on hold.

Skin to skin, heart to heart. Sighs mingled with groans, and her legs parted for him anew, welcoming him in the age-old way a woman can welcome a man. Softness and strength. And in her, with her, he found everything that had been missing.

They would be okay. Maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. They would be together. Fight and laugh and make love.

For forty years.

And longer.

The end.


	4. I Know Who You Are - NatesMama

_**A/N: So my very good friend Tracy (Some1tookmyname) is turning 40 years old today. A major milestone I have already navigated, so I know a little about what a big deal this is. And as such, another good friend, Jaime, asked a few of us to write her a little something to mark the occasion. And because she did something amazingly difficult for me a few months ago that I will always appreciate and never, ever forget, this seemed like the least I could do to mark this day for her. **_

_**If anyone deserves some good fan fic in her honor, it's Tracy. Supermom, super-friend, super woman. **_

_**Happy, Happy, Happy Birthday, my friend. I hope the next year and beyond only brings you good things because no one deserves it more.**_

* * *

I Know Who You Are

by NatesMama

Angela slipped quietly out of Michael Vincent's nursery and headed towards the kitchen to check on her husband's progress with lunch. As she passed through the living room, she saw Jack sitting on the sofa, staring at the television. A television he had yet to turn on.

"Hodgins?" She said his name quietly, his expression seeming to call for the lower volume. "Is everything alright?" Crossing the room, she sat next to him and placed her hand on his knee, rubbing softly. "What is it, babe?"

As if coming out of a stupor, Hodgins looked over at his wife, expression unreadable. "Oh. Um, yeah, Angie. Everything's fine."

Shaking her head, Angela sighed. "Jack."

Hodgins knew that when his wife used his first name she meant business, and it suddenly seemed stupid to keep everything that had been swirling through in his head from her. "I'm sorry, Ang. It's just…I was thinking of father and son relationships. Booth and his dad…that was so bad, and yet Booth still looked so sad today at the funeral. I just…"

"You feel guilty for not feeling the same?"

"No!" He shook his head, one hand scrubbing his beard in frustration while the other clutched Angela's hand tightly. "Don't misunderstand me, I loved my dad. Love him. I do miss him, in an absent sort of way. I would never wish what Booth and his brother went through on anyone, but…I mean, at least there was _some_ feeling there, even if it was horrible. You know? Not this…numbness." He sighed heavily again. "In the end, Booth knows his dad loved him, even with the bad that he did. But I-"

"Hodgins. Your dad loved you."

"You don't actually know that, Ang. I mean, hell…_I_ don't actually know that! It's not like he ever said it." He chuffed a bitter laugh. "God, that sounds needy and pathetic."

Angela slid closer to lay her head on her husband's shoulder, offering the only comfort she could think of at the moment. The air was thick with his grief, both old and new, and Angela was at a loss as to what to say to ease his pain.

"Look, I'm not complaining." Jack finally said lowly. "I had a charmed childhood by anyone's standards, all the money in the world, the best schools, and servants waiting on me hand and foot…"

"But your parents…"

He leaned back into the sofa and looked up at the ceiling. "My mother didn't understand me. She was a mother, but only in the most biological way. She was very hands-off and distant. My nanny was the closest I had to a mom. And my father…I know that he hated that I had no desire to go into the family business. I mean come on, bugs and slime? The mere thought of his heir pursuing something so…pedestrian made him absolutely livid."

Angela had moved back to lean against him, where she gently stroked his thigh and continued to lean on him in support. "He didn't actually say that, did he?

"Oh yeah, he did." He sighed. "I overheard him talking to my grandfather when I was 16. It wasn't too long before they were killed, actually. Maybe a few weeks. He told Grandfather that I was a 'disappointment' to him and that he wished they'd had another child to make up for my 'shortcomings'." His fingers accentuated the quotes with angry precision before they dropped to his lap, clenched into fists.

Angela's heart lurched and her stomach knotted with sadness. "Jesus, Jack. I'm…" Tears welled up in her eyes. "I just…saying that I'm sorry seems inadequate." She sat up and looked him in the eye with determination. "I once told you that you were a man of odd enthusiasms, and I still believe that because it's what makes you, you but…you know that I truly believe there is nothing disappointing about you, Jack Hodgins. Not one single thing." Angela leaned forward to kiss him tenderly, absently wiping away the tear that streaked down his face. "I couldn't be prouder to be your wife."

Hodgins smiled, wiping his nose with a nod. "I am so damn lucky to have you, you know. You, Michael Vincent, Booth, Brennan, Cam and Sweets….the interns…we have a great family, right?"

Angela nodded softly, lying back down next to him. "We really do. The best. But it's not luck, babe. You deserve every good thing in this world."

They settled into the comfortable, comforting sofa, where they stayed for the rest of the evening, wrapped in each other and the peaceful silence of their beautiful home and their love and the warmth of truly being accepted for who you are.

"Love you, Ang."

"I love you too, Hodgins."


	5. More Than One Kind - Rynogeny

**My pal Tracy loves Hodgins; I love Hodgins and Booth together. So in honor of her 40th birthday, a little ramble about the two of them.**

**T, I respect you more than you know, and cherish the friendship we've formed. May your 40s be the best decade yet.**

* * *

By Rynogeny

"I need your help." Hodgins stood in the door of Booth's office, looking very much as if he'd been running his hands through his hair.

"If you're looking for help breaking into Area 51, the answer's no." Though it might actually be better than the mountain of paperwork in front of him, Booth reflected.

Ignoring the comment, Hodgins pulled his phone out of his pocket as he walked further into the office. He touched an icon on the screen, and then turned it so Booth could hear.

"Jack Hodgins," a mechanized voice said, "you made the wrong choice. You betrayed your family. You will pay." Hodgins tapped the icon again, and the voice continued, clearly a different recording. "Have you said goodbye yet to your boy? It will be soon. You shouldn't have betrayed your people like that."

Both humor and boredom gone, Booth stood. "How many of those have you received? How long ago?"

"A total of four. The first was three days ago." Before Booth could snap at him, he added, "I know who they're from."

"Angela traced them?"

Hodgins nodded.

"And?" Frustrated by the lack of response, he did snap. "Are we looking at a real threat or a crackpot?"

"I know where he is. I don't how dangerous he is."

"He's threatening to kill you. Let's assume very."

"He's my godfather's son," Hodgins blurted. "I grew up with him. I don't want him hurt."

That explained the whole weird conversation. "Yeah, well, your well-being ranks higher than his."

"He's always made threats. Not against me, but just blowing off steam. He's never hurt anyone that I know of. "Hodgins dropped into one of the chairs across from him. "And I don't want him to start now. But his father has always been good to me. Is _still _being good to me."

"So his kid's what, jealous?"

"No, nothing like that. He's nuts, Booth. Something called Paranoid Personality Disorder."

At Booth's expression, Hodgins scowled. "I'm not paranoid. It's naïve to pretend there aren't conspiracies out there, but I don't think they're out to get me in particular."

"Point to you. But he does?"

"Yeah. Not aliens. He's not schizophrenic. He just interprets everything people around him do as being out to hurt him. If someone he knows doesn't say hello to him, or gives him what he thinks is a funny look, it's because they have it in for him. He doesn't trust anyone."

"But he's not delusional."

Hodgins shook his head. "He knows right from wrong, Booth. Sweets says that most people who have the disorder are no more likely than anyone else to turn violent. But there's no reason they can't."

"Yeah, well, if everyone's out to get him, and he thinks you in particular did him wrong, there's also no reason for him not to."

"I just don't want him hurt." At Booth's expression, Hodgins raised his hands. "Look, I've never asked you for anything. But I'm asking you to help me bring him in unharmed. "

It was Booth's turn to scowl. "And, oh, gee, I had my heart set on killing him, just for fun."

Hodgins winced. "That's not what I meant. Look, we both know that a guy makes this kind of threat, things can go bad. John – his dad - is pretty much single-handedly trying to save Cantilever so no one else is out on the street. He lost a lot of money when Pelant pulled his stunt, is using his own funds to keep things afloat and despite that, has been nothing but supportive of me."

"Let's just bring the kid in, and go from there. We can't charge him just for making a threat, anyway. Where is he?"

"A cabin in Maryland. John's trying to sell it to raise more cash. That may have been what tipped Mark over the edge."

"Mark's the son?"

"Yeah. He's always loved that cabin, more than his dad understood, maybe."

"Any idea what we're looking at here in terms of weapons?"

"Not really. But his dad told me he's been spending a lot of time at the gun range. John's trying to get a list together of what he has."

"Great." Booth checked his own weapon. Hodgins was absolutely right about one thing. This could go to hell in a well decorated hand basket in no time at all.

* * *

Booth pulled into the driveway of the cabin, and scowled as the car that had been following them turned into the drive on the other side of the road. What had made him think this would be simple? It _should _have been simple. It _could _have been. He could have driven out here, interviewed the guy, scared the bejezus out of him, and that would have been that. After further discussions with both Hodgins and Sweets, Booth was pretty sure Mark wasn't a real threat.

But he'd been wrong before. He couldn't afford to be this time.

Only instead of that simple conversation, it had turned into an 'op' as Brennan and Sweets – two of the three people in the other car – were calling it. The third person, of course, was Angela, and he'd been hard pressed to convince her that she'd be better off with Sweets and Brennan than coming to the door with him and Hodgins.

Sweets' voice crackled in his ear. "Can you hear me?"

Repressing the urge to add 'now' to the question, Booth glanced at Hodgins and saw the other man nod. "Yeah, we can hear you."

"Same here. We're good to go then."

"10-4," Hodgins said.

Shaking his head, Booth parked the SUV to the side of the cabin, behind a small car. "Follow my lead," he said to Hodgins. "If you don't, you won't see the outside of the lab again until you're a great-grandfather."

Hodgins nodded. "You're the man."

Booth exited the SUV, grateful that his side was closest to the cabin. He wasn't detecting movement in the cabin, but he'd bet a month's pay that Mark knew they were there.

He'd have won the bet. As Hodgins stepped around the front of the truck, the door to the cabin opened and a young man of around thirty stepped out and came down to meet them. He was in jeans and a t-shirt, and Booth didn't see any evidence of a gun.

Still, he shifted so he was between the two men as he held up his badge. "Mr. Troutt? FBI. We need to ask you a few questions."

Mark ignored him. "Hello, Jack."

"Mark."

"Mr. Troutt, we've traced threats against Mr. Hodgins to your phone."

Mark glanced at Booth, and then shifted so he could better see Hodgins. "Brought the big guns, huh, Jack? Taking the easy way out, like always. "

"Is that what you thought? That I took the easy way out when I sacrificed Cantilever to save those girls? They're human beings!"

"They're on the other side of the world. Your family is here. But you didn't consider us at all."

"My _family_ understood," Hodgins' voice was quiet. "But I'm sorry for what you lost."

"No, you're not. You didn't lose anything. Still have your cushy job; still have your little house that you preferred. They cut my position at the company, did you know that? And now the old man's selling the only thing I ever wanted from him."

"Booth," Sweets voice sounded in his ear. "The bitterness in his tone is escalating as he rehearses what he's lost. That's not good."

No, it wasn't, Booth thought.

"Did you _tell_ your father what the cabin means to you?" Hodgins asked.

"What would be the point? Oh, screw it."

That was the only warning Booth had, as Mark launched himself toward Hodgins, the knife he'd produced from God knows where in his hand.

Booth shoved Hodgins back and intercepted the knife, knocking it up and out of Mark's hand before taking the other man down to the ground. "That was all kinds of stupid, you know that?" as he pulled his handcuffs out.

* * *

_New Year's Eve_

There were people in his living room.

A lot of them.

Squints, cops, prosecutors, and a few who were less easy to classify, like the ex-priest turned bartender. Booth leaned back against the kitchen island – currently serving as a bar – and shook his head at the bits and pieces of conversations he could hear flowing around him. The foreign language known as science mingled with cop talk as well as somewhat heated discussions about what the best movie of the holiday season had been.

Since the most important reveler was currently laughing at something Hodgins was saying, Booth didn't mind the crowd in the least. Brennan was always beautiful, but her head thrown back in laughter was one of his favorite looks on her. Well, that he was willing for anyone else to see, at least.

Hodgins was laughing, too. Good. Mark Troutt didn't deserve anything more than he'd already taken.

"Here. " Aldo refilled his glass. "You're not driving, so you may as well indulge."

"Thanks." Booth started to drink, and then paused. "And thanks for bringing the booze. I figured this would be a big night for you at the bar."

Aldo motioned to the people around them. "Most of my regular customers are either in your house or attending other FBI parties."

"Hey, I did the best I could. I passed around those cards you gave me."

"It helped, particularly since most of them actually come to drink, not to talk," he finished dryly.

"We do what we can." Booth scanned the room again, but didn't see anyone in need of a food or drink refill, or standing alone. These people all knew one another too well for that. Even Daisy looked comfortable in a discussion with one of Sweets' roommates while her new boyfriend was talking to Sweets and Fischer.

Okay, that part was weird. But given the relationship between Wendell, Hodgins, and Angela, 'weird' was obviously relative.

He glanced at the clock over the stove. Ten minutes to midnight. Then he'd get everyone on the road as fast and as safely as possible, because he had plans for Brennan later, plans involving some of those facial expressions only he got to see.

Hodgins made his way to where they stood. "John called me this afternoon. Mark agreed to go into treatment. Sweets says that's most of the battle with people suffering from PPD. They don't trust anyone enough – including therapists – for it to work. But if he's willing to give it a try, that's a step in the right direction."

"Yeah, well, we'll keep an eye on him."

Hodgins took the beer Aldo passed him, and tipped it toward Booth. "Thanks, by the way."

"Anytime."

He looked at the clock. "Almost midnight. I want to find my wife." With that, Hodgins wandered off in Angela's direction.

"They're good people, Booth."

He glanced at Aldo, then back at the people filling up his space. "Yeah. Yeah, they are."

The year just closing out had had some of his worst moments, but also some of his best, and they'd all been shared with the people in this room. He was a pretty lucky guy, all things considered. Brennan laughed again, and looked over at him, and…yeah. Lucky.


	6. Rockin' New Year's Eve - Thorteso

_**Brennan-Booth Rockin' New Year's Eve**_

_AN: A few days late and a lot of dollars short, but here are nine snippets and forty years worth of New Year's Eves of Brennan and Booth for the wonderful some1tookmyname. T - I want to either be you or your kids when I grow up, still deciding which. Thanks for everything :)_

_PS - I guessed on all the years and ages. So many things on the show have been said that the timeline is all a little fuzzy for me. Twitter helped some, but there are bound to be mistakes. So, if anything is wrong, deal with it._

_By Thorteso_

* * *

1985: Brennan

Temperance Brennan crept down the hallway of her new house. Her family had been moving a lot over past few years and she never quite knew where she would be when she woke up.

Tonight was New Year's Eve, and even though she presented a compelling argument to her parents to allow her to stay up until midnight, eight year old Tempe was sent to bed only an hour later than usual.

She knew how to play the game though, Tempe pretended she was asleep and listened. At 11:58, little Tempe crept down the stairs. She made it to the doorway of the living room and saw her parents dancing as the New Year 1985 came over the midwest. The girl giggled as her father planted a loud smacking kiss on her mother's cheek. Before Temperance knew it, her father scooped her up as well and planted wet raspberries on her neck until her giggles turned into laughter.

"It is going to be a great year, Sweetheart, just you wait and see."

* * *

1990: Booth

18 year old Private Booth was sitting in a hide site. When he had joined the army, he never imagined that he would be spending a New Year's Even like this.

Booth was not the lead sniper of the duo yet, he was the young spotter, absorbing everything that his mentor was teaching him. But there were times like this, after countless hours of surveillance that nothing more could be learned. He would day dream about being back in Philly with Pops and Jared, maybe have a date or two for the night and go out on the town. He would day dream about being anywhere else.

As Booth welcomed what he estimated to be the New Year dawning, he looked up to the sky.

"Someday I'll be home."

* * *

1995:

Temperance Brennan sat alone in her little dorm room. She had gotten special permission to stay on campus through the holidays and would be working on a couple classes during the break.

While sitting in the silence with her books did not make sense to her classmates, it gave the young woman time to reflect on all that had happened in the past year. She had endured her last foster home and was now on her own. She had enrolled at college and was throwing her whole self into her studies. She estimated that she would be done with her undergraduate degree in two and a half years and then would quickly move on to post-graduate degrees and research.

So while her classmates were out with their fake ids, Ms. Brennan was planning out her year ahead.

Even through the silence, breaking free from all of the horrors of her past, she kept hearing her father's words in her head.

"It is going to be a great year, Sweetheart, just you wait and see."

* * *

2000:

Agent Seeley Booth spun around in his desk chair. It wasn't really his desk, but he figured none of the higher-ups were spending New Year's Eve at work anyway.

Not that it mattered to him. After the yelling earlier today, he and Rebecca were officially off again. He had plenty of numbers her could call for some fun and there were enough pool halls in DC to keep him busy, but not tonight.

A new millennium was about to begin, the computers might shutdown the world, and he was looking at the end of his 20's, maybe it was time to think about the future. Maybe it was time to forget about the past.

But as he spun around in the chair again and looked out the window one thought played like a broken record.

"Someday I'll be home."

* * *

2005:

Pushing her way through the airport Dr. Brennan cursed the fact that the dig organizers put her on a return flight for New Year's Eve. She had spent the holiday season in French Polynesia working as always.

As soon as travel and exotic locations became a part of her life, she made it a point to leave DC when the lab closed down for the holidays. Her interns and co-workers either vacationed or spent time with her family; since she did not see the point in mindlessly wasting away one's life on a beach and did not have a family to visit, travel was the best alternative.

But after 5 years, life at the Jeffersonian was changing. Zach, although just another intern, had become someone very important to her. She had convinced Angela, one of her few female friends to join their team. And although Hodgins was frustrating at times, she respected Jack and his work more and more. And then there was Booth.

She solved centuries old murders, but solving a murder with Booth, not just consulting, actually working the case, was different. And this was one of the times that different was good. It had taken her a while to come to that conclusion. She had made Zach run interference with Booth for a while, but maybe, just maybe she should let Booth in.

Either way, work, and everything else, was changing.

"It is going to be a great year, Sweetheart, just you wait and see."

* * *

2010:

It had been a great year. Ok, maybe the brain tumor wasn't great. And the coma. And the confusion that followed. But it was a great year.

While toasting their family and friends at Christmas, a moment of contentment had washed over him. This was exactly where he wanted to be, sharing joy with those closest to him with her by his side. It was simple: he loved her.

And there were times he swore she felt the same way. Their banter, spending time together outside of work, even when she asked for his sperm, their relationship was changing.

As he drove to her apartment with a bottle of her favorite wine in the passenger seat, he made wishes for the new year. He hoped for health and fortune for Parker and Pops and Jared. He prayed for peace and contentment in himself. He dreamt of a life with Brennan and having the courage to say the things that he could not say.

At Christmas he had gotten a glimmer of a future with her. But it wasn't enough.

"Someday I'll be home."

* * *

2015:

It had been a long day and it was far from over. Booth had answered the murder line a few hours ago, and although he promised he would be home before midnight, Brennan wasn't holding out hope.

She could not get Christine to calm down and go to bed. The little girl seemed to sense the excitement of New Year's and no matter how many books she read, there was no sleeping. With a sigh, the tired mother gave up and curled up with Christine in front of the TV hoping the child would fall asleep before she did.

Looking down at her little girl, she began thinking about all of the things that would happen for her in the next year, which milestones she would surpass. Brennan was excited to interact more and more with her as she became her own person. And thinking of the life yet to come, she smiled even brighter.

"It is going to be a great year, Sweetheart, just you wait and see."

2020:

Booth stood at the edge of the crowd nursing his drink. With promotions came events, galas, parties, and spending the night in uncomfortable monkey suits.

He had been happy to take the promotion, it was time to hand over the running around to the younger guys, and his new position still allowed him to be involved in a high profile case when he wanted to be. But there are times, like tonight, when he wanted to tell Hacker to shove it and go home.

Brennan usually came with him to all of these events, just as he had to go with her to the Jeffersonian fundraisers, but one of the kids was sick and she didn't trust anyone else to watch them.

He looked around the room and saw people laughing and having fun. Enjoying being out at a party, being seen, and networking. But he had never played that type of game well and he was too tired to start now.

Seeing someone approaching he knew he would not get out of here before midnight.

"Someday I'll be home."

* * *

2025:

Sitting together on the couch, in their mighty hut, Booth leaned in for a kiss as the New Year hit the East Coast.

"It's been a great year, Sweetheart, and we'll have many more."

"I love you, Booth. You're my home."


End file.
